


Let's Make It a Double

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff [28]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Meeting the Parents, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7102333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft, to pay Sherlock back for not taking a case and because he’s an older brother, tells Mummy Holmes that her darling, sociopathic baby has finally gotten himself a boyfriend: a nice chap by the name of John Watson, who also happens to be a Doctor and a war veteran, practically the very definition of an upstanding guy to be entrusted with her child’s wellbeing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Make It a Double

Mycroft walked down the steps of 221 calmly. He hadn't slammed the door to B and he wouldn't slam the front door either. What he would do was get even with Sherlock for turning down his case. It was even one that his brother would be sure to find interesting if he had deigned to accept it. Out on the pathway, he pulled out his mobile and dialled.

No less than 20 minutes later he was receiving a separate call.

“Mycroft!”

“Hello, brother dear.”

“Why have you suddenly decided to force Sunday dinner on me?”

“Because you outright refused to take my case. Again!”

“You're being childish!”

“So says the 32 year old toddler.” Mycroft suppressed a grin as he looked out the window. “Sometimes children need a spanking, brother-mine.”

“Mummy insists I bring John with me. Mycroft, what did you tell her?!”

“I merely told her about your friend, the estimable Doctor Watson.”

With that Sherlock hung up.

Miles across London, Sherlock was dialling out his mother's number intent on making things square.

This time when his phone went he knew it was Mycroft.

“For god sake Sherlock! What did you have to go and tell her about Gregory for?”

Sherlock looked out the window onto Baker Street and smiled broadly. “Fair play, brother dear. I merely told her about the fine, upstanding DI from the Yard you've befriended. I can't be held responsible for any conclusions she arrived at on her own.”

John appeared behind him.

“Sherlock, what are you plotting?”

“N-nothing, John, honest.”

“Hang up.”

“What- why?”

“Because your ego is large enough.”

“Bye, Mycroft. See you Sunday.” Sherlock rang off. “John, did you have a good day?”

“What have you done?” The doctor turned, expecting to see the kitchen destroyed by some experiment. It wasn't. “Whatever it is you want me to do, no.”

Sherlock grinned and punched the air.

“Yes!”

John paused. That was not the response that he had been expecting.

He raised a finger and pointed at Sherlock. “Explain. Now.” Then he got it, or thought he did. “Mycroft wanted you to do something.”

“Yes, yes, yes, but I told him no. Not the point. Mummy invited me to Sunday dinner and she wanted you to come. Thank you, John. Your penchant for telling me no has served me well today.”

John held his hand up. “No, no, no, wait.”

The detective frowned. “Things to do, John.”

The doctor grabbed his arm on the way passed. “No. Your mother has invited us for dinner? Not you. Us?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You know how I loathe repeating myself.” He went and picked up the skull, checking for cigarettes.

“You haven't smoked in ages. There's more to this.”

“Nope.”

“Yes.”

“Wrong.”

“We're going.”

“No. We're not.”

“Sherlock. Yes. We are.”

The detective spun from the skull. “Why? It's boring?”

“It's family. Family is the most important thing.”

“Oh yeah, tell that to your drunk sister.”

“My sister may be a drunk, but your brother isn't.”

“Yeah, well my brother's a prat.”

“You'll get no argument from me there. We're still going.”

“Nope.”

“Well, I am. I'll get a ride from Mycroft. And I'll make your apologies to your mother.”

“John,” Sherlock whined, “this isn't fair.”

“What were you saying to Mycroft on the phone?”

“That Greg's coming too.”

“Less boring than just the four of us, isn't it?”

“Oh, it should help make things interesting.”

“How do you mean?”

“I may have let their little secret slip.”

“It's not a secret, Sherlock.” John collapsed onto his chair. “Everyone knows.”

“Not our parents.”

“You mean…”

“Of course he didn't tell them. They'd, well, Mummy would go all goo-goo eyed. It would be the end of the world.”

“So she doesn't know about us then?”

“She didn't, no,” he agreed.

“That's out of order, Sherlock!”

“Tell that to my brother, he's the one who told Mummy.”

“That- Just for that I'm not getting him anything for Christmas.”

“You never do.”

“Then I'll get him something this year. Something horrible.”

“But to be honest, you should have told her yourself. Months ago, when we first started dating.”

“John!” Sherlock stamped his foot in full pledged sulking detective mode.

“If you're going to start that, I'm going to call Greg. We can go out for a pint and discuss the idiocy of Holmeses.”

He scowled for a minute and just as the doctor went to move towards the door Sherlock stopped him.

“No, John please. I'll call us a take away or something, spend the night here?

John grinned. “You're so easy. C'mere.” When Sherlock was standing in front of him, he pulled him in for a kiss. “Lucky for me.”

Sherlock almost sighed in relief. “You'll stay?”

At John's nod, the detective smiled, trying to ignore the feeling of possible abandonment that grew in the pit of his stomach. It wouldn't go away. He shadowed his boyfriend to the kitchen, hovering as John pulled out the stack of takeout menus from the drawer. He even went so far as to follow John as he searched for his phone.

He sat next to him on the sofa, leaning against his shoulder and listening in to the call as John placed the already known order.

“John, why do we even have those menus? We always get the same thing.”

“Huh.” John wrapped an arm around Sherlock's shoulder. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“But I suppose it reminds me what choices we have in the case of what take away we get.”

Sherlock chuckled at that.

John cocked his head and looked at his boyfriend. “Did you really say goo-goo eyed earlier?”

“I did and Mummy will be.” The detective crossed his arms. “She'll want to know how we met and hear about you as a child. Mummy will probably ask about our first date.”

“We've never been on a date.”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe we should go on one,” John offered.

“You've just ordered take-away.”

The doctor shrugged.

“So? We'll take it the park. It can be our first date.”

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. “Like a picnic?”

“Like a picnic. With ants and everything.” John pecked him on the cheek, then stood. “I'll grab a blanket. We can't have a proper picnic without a blanket.”

Sherlock groaned. He shouldn't have said anything.

“Go and put some decent clothes on, 'Lock.”

“What's wrong with my dressing gown?”

“Lock-” John said warningly, then changed tactics. “I don't want anyone thinking about what's mine. Clothes. Now.”

Sherlock puffed up at that, then went to get dressed.

The doctor actually laughed as Sherlock disappeared into the bedroom. He searched high and low for a blanket, finally finding one under the coffee table.

Sherlock emerged, looking perfectly put together as per usual in trousers and his aubergine shirt. John thought he looked amazing.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Ahem. Maybe we should bring some wine.”

“Wine is boring. Let's take beer.”

John smirked before he shrugged. “If you want beer we'll have to stop at the shop on the way.” Then he frowned. “You never drink alcohol let alone beer.”

“I never have to face Sunday dinner with Mummy,” he made a face, “and Mycroft.”

“What about your father?”

“He'll by sympathetic, but he won't intervene. Mummy is a force of nature.”

“Ha! Like her sons.”

Sherlock glared at him. “Mycroft, maybe. Not me.”

“Oh, Sherlock,” John ruffled his hair as he passed him to the coat rack. “If you weren't a force of nature, I'd be bored.”

“Well then.” Sherlock smirked. “That makes it alright.”

The doctor resisted the ridiculous urge to take his boyfriend in his arms and dip him for a kiss. Barely. It helped that the buzzer rang downstairs indicating the arrival of their take out.

Sherlock ran straight passed the man at the door, snatching the bag of food as he went.

John frowned after him, as he pulled out some cash. “Don’t mind him,” he rolled his eyes as Sherlock started running. “Keep the change. 'Lock! Wait for me.”

The detective slowed his pace marginally so John could catch up. “I haven't been on a picnic since I was 8,” Sherlock said musingly. “There were bees.”

“You like bees so there was no problem.”

Sherlock's smile lit up his face. “No. I guess there wasn't.” He took John's hand. “I want pet bees.”

“You can't have pet bees, 'Lock.”

“Why not?”

John laughed. “Mrs. Hudson won't allow it.”

He scowled. “She should.”

“She won't. Despite how much she seems to adore you, there are some things she won't allow.”

Out popped Sherlock's bottom lip which made John giggle.

“Maybe someday, Babe, when we're old and grey.”

The detective sniffed, then he smiled. “By the looks of your hair, soon, then.”

He ducked under the reaching hand that was prepared to smack him on the back of the head.

“I have food as hostage!”

“You're not going to eat anyway,” John quipped as they entered the park.

“I will if you feed me.” Sherlock looked around the park and started deducing the park goers just to make John laugh.

“Ok, I stop this at the affair.”

Sherlock laughed. “You're no fun.”

“I'm perfect fun. I just stop you at the limits of human decency.

They found an open spot where they'd be able to see the sky when it got dark. It would look so much more beautiful out in the countryside, but John still wanted to be able to look up at the stars. He spread the blanket on the ground and gestured for Sherlock to take a seat.

Then he laid back and dumped his head in Sherlock's lap.

“Oof,” the detective grumbled. “Watch it!”

With a sense of playfulness, John stuck his tongue out at his boyfriend. “Sorry. Forgot to bring a cushion.”

“You can't feed me laying in my lap, John.”

“Of course I can. Hand me a spring roll.”

“Nope. Get it yourself.”

“You sulky brat.”

“Admit it. You'd be bored if I was normal like you.”

“Oi! I'm not boring!”

“No, you most definitely are not.” Sherlock ran his fingers through John's coarse hair. He used one hand to open the takeout and hand the demanded spring roll to his boyfriend, despite his earlier words.

John took a bite and spoke around his mouthful, “Good.” He held the roll up for Sherlock to take a bite.

“Aren't you going to die or something if you eat upside down? It's the sort of thing you would tell me off for.”

“That's because when you try it, you're literally sitting upside down. With your head hanging off the sofa, I might add.” John took another bite of the roll, finishing it off.

“Boring.”

John laughed around his bite and had to sit up to stop from choking to death.

“See! I told you!” He started smacking his doctor on the back, hard, but he had no idea what he was doing, not really.

As he struggled to swallow his food, John waved his hands, trying to get Sherlock to stop. He didn't need to be beat to death any more than he needed to choke. “Stop, stop,” he said, laughing again. “I'm fine.”

“Did I do it right?”

“No,” John burst out laughing again. “There's a certain thing you've got to do first… but I'm not at work so please don't make me explain.”

“Ok, John.” Sherlock picked up a carton of rice and a pair of chopsticks. “I think I'll feed you for a change. It might be safer.”

John sighed, but it was with happiness. He moved so he was beside the younger man and could lean against his shoulder.

Several minutes later, they were both full. Well, John was full and Sherlock was content.

“We should leave London,” the detective announced. “Just for an evening, so we can see the stars properly.”

“We are. Sunday.”

“Do we have to?”

“We've had this discussion Sherlock. I think it's a brilliant idea.”

“You and Greg will sit in the corner with my father discussing the army and whatever and Mummy will run around, her hands flapping and fussing.”

“It won’t be that bad.” John pulled him in for a kiss. “If it is, I'll make it up to you when we get home.”

“How?”

“The best way.”

***

“Get in the car, Sherlock!”

“Why can't we go on our own?” He grumbled.

Mycroft had had a pair of suits dropped off for the pair of them and Sherlock refused to wear the tie, instead it was hanging out of his pocket. John, on the other hand had scrubbed up nicely.

“Because Greg made Mycroft have the car pick us up.”

Giving up on thinking Sherlock was going to cooperate by choice he grabbed his jacket collar and dragged him down the stairs.

As he pulled him into the back seat of the black sedan at the side of the road, it was to find Greg grinning broadly, but Mycroft looking like he was almost sulking in the corner.

“Greg!” John grinned, not suppressing his mirth. “You've got a stroppy one too.”

“He seems to think their mum will be planning two weddings before the day is out.”

John shrugged. “Only if he's asking because I'm not.”

The DI nodded his agreement. “Sounds about right, mate.”

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk smugly at his brother. “You should know this by now, Mycie,” he said teasingly. “I will never let you get away with something when I can get you back just as easily. Especially where our parents are concerned.”

Mycroft sniffed. “This is all your fault, Sherlock. This could have been avoided if you had simply taken my case.”

“It was boring.”

“It was important!”

“And your second choice man resolved the issue in half a day.” Sherlock shrugged and leaned back, wrapping his arm around John. “It would have been a waste of my abilities.”

“This is a waste of my abilities!” Mycroft countered petulantly.

“Could you imagine what these two were like as kids?” Greg asked, tongue in cheek.

John laughed at the thought. “No. But from what mine's said I am 100% sure that we will find out at dinner.”

“I'm looking forward to seeing the photo album Mycroft has been worrying about for days.” The DI laughed at the sharp look both Holmeses shot his way.

“You haven't mentioned that, Babe.” John patted his boyfriend's knee. “I can't wait to see it.”

“Mycroft didn't mention it either.”

“Then how did you…”

“You don't live with the British Government for a long time and learn nothing about deducing.”

John chuckled and the DI continued.

“He was rooting through the cabinet under the bookshelf for what felt like hours. Then he stood and huffed. Then he phoned his mother demanding to be told where it was.”

“You should have burned the thing while you had it,” Sherlock said scathingly.

“And face the wrath of Mummy. No, Sherlock, I'm not a complete idiot, unlike you.”

“You could have at least hidden it!”

“Some of the pictures are cute though.”

Mycroft never used the word cute. It made the other three suspicious.

“What?” He complained. “The first picture is Sherlock, not even a year old-”

“Mycroft!”

“-covered in melted chocolate.”

The detective groaned. “Mycie, please don't.”

“There's also the one where he was 5 months old. He's on his tummy and completely naked. His cute little baby bottom is sticking straight up.”

“Yeah, well, there's one of you fishing with father in the pond.”

“Sherlock-” Mycroft threatened.

“Mycie refused to listen to father when he said the pond had a swamp like bottom… thought his wellies would be enough!”

Greg and John both laughed appreciatively. It made both the Holmeses smile at their respective boyfriends. Perhaps the dinner wouldn't be completely unbearable.

Or perhaps it would.

“Mycie! Lockie!”

“Oh, God,” the brothers complained together. They were grabbed in a barrage of hugs from their mother who had opened the door

“Oh, you must be John,” Violet gushed as she turned her attention on him. “I've seen your picture in the paper. You're even more handsome in person.” She pulled him in for a hug and kissed him on the cheek.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh, but when as his boyfriend was still being crushed by his mother, she reached back and smacked him on the head.

Mrs. Holmes finally released John, only to latch onto Greg. “And you're more handsome than your photos as well.” She hugged him and kissed his cheek as well. “Oh, my boys have done well.” She tugged the DI by the hand. “Come in, come in. Siger! Look at them!”

Mycroft and Sherlock both stood at the door, their eyes squeezed shut.

“Boys!” their mother yelled.

“This is your fault!” Sherlock growled.

“No, it's not.” Mycroft shoved his brother toward the door.

“We could make a break for it…”

They both started to turn and run, but John caught them by the arms. “I don't think so,” the doctor said as he guided them through the door and into the house. He laughed. “This is going to be great.”

“That's what you think,” Sherlock muttered.

“Ahh, Siger, look at our boys, all pouty faces like there was when they were children.”

“They seem to sulk like back then, too.”

It was most surprising to everyone when Mycroft was the one who stamped his foot in protest. “Sherlock, if you had just taken that god damn case!”

Violet turned on her eldest son. “Mycroft Holmes! Language!”

“Sorry, Mummy.”

Sherlock didn't bother trying to hide his glee. “Mycie got in trouble!”

“In there, boys,” the elderly woman ordered. “Siger will have tea through in a moment. Dinner is at 3.”

“But I'm hungry now!” Mycroft complained almost petulantly.

John glanced to the DI, “are we sure that the door into the house wasn't some sort of time portal.”

Greg laughed. “We've hopped back 30 years!”

“Oh, they're such children,” Mrs. Holmes observed. “They always have been. I don't know how you two put up with it.”

John tilted his head. “Um, we don't usually see this side of them.”

“Well, you do,” Greg argued. “More than me at least.”

Violet frowned. “Boys, what have I told the pair of you about hiding things?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Mycroft said with a haughty sniff.

Mrs. Holmes looked upwards towards the heavens. “Don't start with me, young man. You and your brother know exactly what I'm talking about.”

Sherlock scowled, leaning over to shove his brother out of the way as he tried to hide upstairs.

John grabbed him again. “No more running away,” he ordered. “You are not a toddler.”

Stamping his foot, Sherlock argued, “Yes I am! I can be a toddler if I want to be.”

“Babe, that makes absolutely no sense.”

“It doesn't have to.”

Mrs. Holmes stepped forward.

“Go and sit down, the pair of you. You can be good boyfriends after tea and show these lovely young men around.

She glared at both her son's until they gave in.

“Yes, Mummy,” they conceded together.

Violet turned her attention to John. “So you're a doctor. Tell me all about it.”

John blushed. “There's really not much to tell, Mrs. Holmes-”

“Violet.”

“Um, Violet. I work as a GP at a clinic on occasion. I just fill in when I can. Chasing around after Sherlock is a full time job in and of itself.”

The detective poked his tongue out. “You enjoy it!”

“Behave young man!” Mrs. Holmes said with a pointed finger.

Blushing, John cleared his throat. “I do enjoy it, Mrs. H- Violet.”

“Of course you do. You're the type of person that likes to help people, I can tell. And you.” She turned to Greg. “You like to help people, but in a different way. That's why you entered the police force, unless I'm much mistaken.”

“Well… yes.” He nodded. “You're their mother, of course you're right.”

She beamed at him and John both. “Isn't it interesting that both my boys have picked men like you for their lifelong partners? I think it says something about who they are deep down inside.”

“Don't know about long term,” Sherlock muttered.

John beat the older woman to smacking him on the back of the head.

That didn't stop her from speaking. “William Sherlock Scott Holmes. You look at your boyfriend and tell me you could ever leave him.” When Sherlock blushed and shook his head, she smiled with satisfaction. “That's what I thought. And you, Mycroft. Let's go ahead and get it out of the way. Could you ever leave your Gregory?” He too shook his head. “Good. Now about the wedding date…”

Just then, Siger appeared with the tea tray.

Both Holmeses sank back into their seats; happy their father had saved them.

But then he surprised them. “I'd be interested too,” he added.

John and Greg exchanged surprised looks. Both their boyfriend's had said this would happen, but neither of them had believed it. They had thought the brothers were being, well, overly dramatic.

“Um, Violet-” John began, but she cut him off.

“Don't you try saying you're not in it for the long term, dear. I can tell that neither you nor Gregory are going anywhere.”

“Yes, but-”

Sherlock glanced over the DI's shoulder and nodded at Mycroft.

Together the Holmeses got down on one knee beside one another.

“Gregory, will you do me the greatest honour? Will you consent to becoming my husband?” Mycroft looked deeply into his boyfriend's eyes, trying to communicate the depth of his feelings for the other man.

Greg pulled him up into a hug. “Of course I will and I'm the one who's honoured.”

Sherlock sniffed. “Show off.” He looked at John. “You know I'm not one for fancy words, John. I can't speak of things like honour. All I know is that I'm incomplete without you and I don't want to face life as a mere fraction of a man. Will you marry me and make me whole?”

Sudden tears came to the doctor's eyes. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, hugging him fiercely. “Yes, babe, absolutely, yes.”

Neither Greg nor John had foreseen this, but the Holmeses had obviously planned it, the cheeky sods. They'd known about 'Mummy' and her tendency to talk weddings.

Siger smiled. “There's that settled, then.” He started passing tea around, having deduced how everyone wanted it. “Let's make it a double wedding, shall we?”


End file.
